


I dreamed you dreamed of me

by nasaplates



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, M/M, Merlin AU, Miscommunication, Pining, Resurrection, Vague descriptions of violence, allusion to drowning, king seokmin, mention of 8jun, mention of political marriage, misaligned love languages, not exactly a happy ending but a hopeful one, sorcerer minghao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-01-11 05:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18423336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasaplates/pseuds/nasaplates
Summary: In a land of myth, and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young king.Destiny leaves no room for love.aka they gave seokmin the part of king arthur in a play and I lost all control of myself.written for SVT JukeboxYears & Years - "King"





	I dreamed you dreamed of me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earthshaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthshaker/gifts).



> to the svt jukebox mods: thanks for running a fun fest <3 
> 
> this is very much for you, [dia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthshaker)
> 
> warnings: brief mention of wax play, knifeplay, rough sex, face fucking  
> *see end notes for something left out of the warnings, and why*

_I had to break myself to carry on_  
_no love and no admission_  
_take this from me tonight_

 

King Seokmin rode hard through the night. Not because he needed to, but because he felt, with the oncoming battle he knew was brewing on the horizon, the battle to end all battles, likely, for him, that this would be his last chance to do so simply because he wanted to. Simply because something waited for him at the end of this journey that he wished for.

Camelot and all she stood for lay in the balance. His thoughts swirled with the needs and wants of his people, with betrayal and loyalty, with love, with responsibility. He considered strategy, both battle and political, as he had done for years now, since he’d been granted his kingdom, since he’d decided he would make something greater of it than his father had. But at the center of his swirling thoughts, was Minghao.

Minghao the friend, Minghao the servant. Minghao the sorcerer.

Seokmin had known for some time now about Minghao’s magic, had found out during a battle, after a too-close shave with death, when he’d looked over at his greatest friend and seen the lingering flash of gold in his eyes.

He had not taken it well. Trust was a difficulty for him on the best of days, and finding out the person closest to you in all the world had been lying to you was not the best of days. Seokmin had shut him out with a fiercely trained grace, frigid air where once it was warm, distant eyes instead of laughter, a smiled snub. Loss of favor, rather than a public execution.

It was in this period that the trysts began.

And trysts they were, though maybe not so much the types that lovers might have. Seokmin felt no love for Minghao the night he let the sorcerer take him in the armory, after another battle he survived without knowing if it was due to his own skill, or Minghao’s devilry. He stopped caring, in the middle, when Minghao’s eyes stopped looking so heartbroken, when he accepted every sneered kiss and gave sharp teeth in return. When his cock profaned Seokmin’s royal ass while his hand tightened and released rhythmically, leaving future bruises on his regal neck.

Seokmin felt no love for Minghao any of the other times, either. It was always after death passed it’s ghosted breath over them, one or the other, leaving them bloodied or sickened or completely unblemished in any place but their minds, their hearts. It was always violent. Seokmin was cut with daggers, or burned with hot wax, or simply bent in half like a plaything with a strength no man as slight as Minghao should have. But perhaps it did not matter how slight he was, with eyes gleaming golden in the night. Perhaps the magic wasn’t needed, anyway, when the darkness of whatever consumed them stripped them of reason and humanity and decency so easily.

No, the love came later. The love, when Seokmin finally pulled his head high enough above the waterline to realize he was drowning in it, came too late.

The walls around Seokmin’s heart were high and wide and covered in spikes, surrounded by wolves. It was natural, being this way, with so many decided on ending his life. He privately believed he would have been this way regardless of royal blood, without the assassination attempts. The walls are why, he told himself, it felt as though he had fallen from a height when he saw Minghao kissing Jun, gently, both of them smiling, unaware they had been seen. Seokmin came to that gasping realization he was in love in the same moment he realized Minghao was not in love with him.

When Seokmin found Minghao, later, waiting for him in an antechamber to his rooms, Seokmin fell, deliberately, to his knees before him. Minghao gasped a breath and held it. Seokmin could not allow himself to worship Minghao, lave his longing on his cock like he wished to, not as a king, and not as a man in unmet love. So he put Minghao’s hand on his head and said “Use me,” before swallowing him to the root. Minghao, after a long moment of shock, something nameless in his eyes, fucked his face brutally, biting his lips to remain undiscovered in their shame. Seokmin allowed the tears to fall, there, choking on his mouthful, and nowhere else.

The horse beneath him knickers and shies from some unseen threat, and Seokmin comes back to himself, shakes his head to banish the last ghosts of memory. A campfire glowed up ahead. Gentling the horse, he slows them to a canter, then a trot, then a walk. There is only one man at the fire, his dark form silhouetted against the flames. Seokmin knows he’s been heard, and that this man, of all men, has nothing in this forest to fear.

Pulling the horse to a stop, he hops down, strokes her neck idly, never taking his eyes from Minghao. He sits next to him, a handbreadth of space between them, turns his eyes to the dancing flames.

“Seokmin,” Minghao says, and Seokmin can feel his smile on the side of his face, warmer than the fire. He takes a breath and turns to him.

Minghao’s eyes, a brown as warm as his slowly slipping smile, scan his expression. He’s so beautiful with the light on his golden skin, black hair falling in an artless frame around his face. He’s lounged casually, limbs looking graceful in a way they have no business doing, until he sits up straight, face serious, the first hint of worry lines becoming clear on his brow.

“It is time,” is all Seokmin says, swallowing heavily though his voice is steady and clear.

Minghao nods, turns to the fire, pulls his legs more firmly beneath him. With an elegant wave of his fingers, the flames crackle brighter, a wave of heat making Seokmin shiver. Golden eyes in a golden face. Seokmin wants to ask how long Minghao has known that he was aware Minghao had magic, but there was no time for that, now. It was inconsequential, with so much between them.

“I will die for you, Seokmin,” Minghao says, no honorifics between them. They had lost them far too long ago to go looking for them now. “I will die for you, and you will make Camelot the kingdom I have always known you could. I could always see it, there, in your heart.” There is an ancient certainty in his voice, like a boulder, like a lake.

Kings do not weep, and neither do soldiers. Lovers do. One tear escapes before Seokmin can make himself a king again.

A warm hand cups his nape, squeezes. Seokmin looks at Minghao and smiles, watery, but real. Something in Minghao wavers.

“You will have Mingyu,” he says, and Seokmin laughs. Mingyu reserved her love for women, though they maintained the fiction of their marriage apparently well enough to fool someone as close to them both as Minghao. He would have Mingyu as a friend, yes, and the others of the Round Table. He would have Junhui, too, bitter as he may feel towards him, knowing they have loved the same man. He would have them all, but none would fill the chasm left behind by Minghao’s loss.

It is this thought that drives him to tip forward and fall onto Minghao’s lips.

The fortress around his heart crumbles at the gentle pressure of Minghao’s caressing mouth, and he is left aching with it, Minghao’s touch the only balm. Everywhere their skin brushes is aflame, not with the raging wild inferno they were used to, but with something sharper and softer by turns, something yearning.

Their bodies know each other but not these gentle touches, these soft mouths. Naked, body and soul, there in the forest, Minghao slides into Seokmin like he is something precious and fragile. Seokmin fractures, but does not lash out as he would before. He weeps, and cradles Minghao’s face as he does. Minghao rocks into him, eyes locked on his like he’s the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. Maybe he is, Seokmin thinks. There’s a glimmer of gold on the edges of his irises.

Minghao’s hips grow more frantic, and Seokmin wraps his legs around him, envelops him in his body like he could keep him there. Like if he only held tightly enough, only loved him well enough, they could stay there, the only light in the darkness.

They fall, Seokmin first, untouched, and he feels Minghao follow, as he always follows. The flames shoot high into the sky, twenty feet or more, and the world goes white around them.

He is distantly aware of Minghao pulling out of him, whimpering softly until Minghao pets his hair and shushes him, his eyes filled with something fathomless and unnamed. Minghao cradles him, must use his magic to wrap them both in a blanket without releasing his hold. The warmth and the exertion and the ride and the stress catch up to Seokmin, and he is pulled into sleep.

“I love you, my King. I love you, my Seokmin.”

The whispered confession is lost to Seokmin’s dreams: echoing on the battlefield, muffled by the fog, trapped in bubbles of air as he sinks to the bottom of a lake. He does not remember it, when he wakes.

He does, though, in the final moments, cradled there in Minghao’s arms.

They are the last words to cross his fading mind as he dies.

 

*****

 

They are the first words he remembers when he bursts, gasping, from the waters of the lake. He will find out, later, that centuries have passed. It doesn’t matter. Minghao is there, on the shore, wearing strange clothes, but the same smile.

Seokmin swims.

**Author's Note:**

> *main character dies but is resurrected in the next line, unwarned because it is not graphically described and he is resurrected immediately*
> 
> \o/
> 
> I live for comments, I love hearing what people think (and what they might like to see more of...*eyes emoji*) and feel free to stop by on [twitter](twitter.com/nasaplates) and [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/nasaplates) <3


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